BACK TO THE RED DOG.  And to square one.

Revell, owner of the Red Dog, sat down next to Natalia and offered her a steaming mug of tea which looked out of place in his bear-like hands.

She said nothing.  Just sat lodged into the corner of the couch, knees tucked against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, staring intently at her sneakered feet.

Couldn't blame her.  Somebody just shot at her with a chaingun and, most likely, 70mm rockets out of a pepperbox launcher.  Typical in my line of work.

Not typical for her.

Revell stood up and turned to me, a frown on his bearded face.  "Shock," he said in his Russian-tinged basso.

I nodded, finished slipping rounds into the fifth clip, set that down on the desk in front of me, and began loading a sixth.  "She'll be fine."

"Ya znayu.  I know."  He set the mug down on the other end of the desk.  "What about Mouse?"

"Next order of business."  Bad move.  Whoever you are.

I started to top off the clip, but my vision suddenly went fuzzy.  Like looking through a rain-drenched window.

"Katya?"

Revell.  His hand suddenly on my shoulder.  Comforting.  It reminded me of Murphy.

Revell's best friend.

My old mentor.  My friend.  A father to me.

Before he went to a meet in the Zone a year and half ago.

For the last time--

No.  Not going to happen to Mouse.

Blinking brought the world back into focus.

I cleared my throat, finished loading the clip.

Just then the office door flew open and everyone's favorite info broker, Specs, burst in, resplendent with his circular mirrorshades and a Hawaiian shirt the color of a really obnoxious fireworks display.  The overhead light glinted off his bald head.

"Can't a guy even enjoy a cold frosty one out there without bein' summoned like some goddamned manservant?"

I grinned.  "Hi, Specs.  I'm fine.  How are you?"

"This enlightened warrior shit is really starting to piss me off, Kat."

"I need info."

"And what the fuck do I look like?"

"Specs--"

He held up his hands and smiled.  "I'm kidding!  Jesus!  Lighten up, will ya?  All that stress'll give you a heart attack."  He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me, propping his feet up on the corner of the desk.  "You two already done?  I thought that Rambaldo guy--"

"Renaldi."

The three of us turned.  Natalia sat upright on the couch, hands on her hips, looking imperious.  She threw Specs a dagger-filled stare.  "The name," she said, "is Renaldi."

Specs looked at her, dropped the mirrorshades to the end of his nose, and looked again.  "You ain't Mouse."

I looked at Revell.  "Give the man a prize."

Specs squinted at Natalia.  "Goddamn.  You look like Mouse, though.  Fuckin' weird."  He turned back to me.  "What the hell?"

I told him what happened.

When I finished, Specs whistled and shook his head.  "Son of a bitch.  So you got stuck with the package--"

"I'm not a package." Natalia said.

Specs turned to her.  "Take it easy, kid.  It's just bizspeak--"

"I don't care.  I'm.  Not.  A.  Package."

I raised an eyebrow at Natalia.

She stared at me.  "I have a name, thank you," she said.

I said, "Natalia, this is Specs.  He's a broker."

Specs grinned at her.  "How ya doin'?"

"Watch out," I said to Specs.  "She's feisty."

"No shit."  He turned to me and sat back in his chair.  "So whadda ya need?"

"You brokered the run.  Who's your contact?"

He scratched his head.  "You know I can't divulge that info."

I gave him The Look.

He cleared his throat.  "It's a professional thing.  You know, broker-client privilege."

The Look continued.

Three seconds later he threw up his hands.  "Deborah Kelly.  Her name's Deborah Kelly.  She works for whatsisname."

"Renaldi."

"Yeah.  Him.  She called the run.  You happy now?"

"Thank you."

"I'm gonna lose my license for that."

"You don't have a license."

He shrugged and gave me a lopsided grin.

"Oh," I said. "I need a car."

"You're killin' me, Kat."

"I love you too, Specs."

He went back into the bar with Revell in tow leaving me with Natalia.  She looked at me expectantly.

"Do you know Deborah Kelly?" I asked.

"She works with my father," Natalia said.

"What's she like?"

She shrugged.  "I met her once."

I nodded and pulled out my cellphone to call Fast Eddie, our favorite console jockey.  Two rings, then a cheery voice answered: "Oy, luv.  Miss me, did you?"

"Need you, choom."

"Don't let Mouse hear that.  She'd be jealous."

"Kinda' why I called."  I told him what happened.

"Bugger..." he said.

"You on board, then?" I asked.

"Anything for Mouse," he replied, then quickly added, "And you, too."

"I know."

Eddie'd been jonesing for Mouse since they first met three years ago.  The boy'd go through hell and back for her.  And has.  Twice.  Second time nearly flatlined him.  This time around wasn't quite hell, but I knew he'd come through.  As always.

For me and for Mouse.

He cleared his throat.  "Right.  What's the crack?"

"Infodump."

"Mark?"

"Deborah Kelly.  Works for Phillipe Renaldi."

Keyboard tapping in the background.  "Renaldi?  The AstraNova bloke?"

"Yeah.  Full dump.  Anything you can dig up."

"On it.  Ten, maybe fifteen.  I'll call."

"Thanks, Eddie."

I hung up.

"What now?" Natalia asked.

I loaded up.  Topped off The Twins, Bonnie and Clyde -- my pair of Springfield 2000 .45-caliber high-capacity pistols -- before slipping them snugly into my ddouble-holster shoulder rig.  Then pulled on my black leather biker jacket, started for the office door, and looked over at Natalia.  "Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said.

I stopped.  "You need to be with me."

"Why?  'Cause it's safer?"  She snorted.

"It is safer."

"We almost got blown up.  You call that safe?"

Good point.  "Look," I said, "it's my job to make sure nothing happens to you."

"Oh yeah.  I forgot.  I'm your 'package.'  Well, screw that.  And screw you!"

"Your father hired us."

Natalia snorted.  "As if he cared."   She folded her arms across her chest and looked away, lower lip trembling.

"Those men wanted you," I said.  "They picked up my best friend instead.  I plan to get her back.  Your father paid us for a job.  I plan to do that, too.  Either way, that means you stay with me."

"Says who?"

I sighed.  Patience, they say, is a virtue.  One I usually have.

Not this time.

One of the Twins, Bonnie, suddenly pointed herself muzzle-first against Natalia's forehead. Natalia went saucer-eyed.

"Says me," I said.

Then she looked away...

Back to Episode 1 : The Baby
On to Episode 3 : Daddy's Money

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